Suddenly Silenced
by Sailor Coruscant
Summary: This is how the world ends.


**Suddenly Silenced **

This is how the world ends:  
It ends with an astronomer, looking through his telescope and realising that the sunspot he's been observing isn't natural. He makes a few calculations as to its size and mass and decides on a whim to see if it will respond to a standard comms hail. He's both elated and disappointed when it responds with a set of standard Imperial identification codes and a few sharp words for his breaking of military protocol. The astronomer closes the channel hurriedly and makes a call to a friend at the Palace whom he knows will be interested in knowing about this new Imperial presence in the system. He waits for a connection as something twinkles in the eyepiece, the telescope warns of an energy surge overloading the detector, and then—

This is how the world ends:  
It ends with a child, crying in the night and waking her mother, who dearly wants to sleep. But she gets up anyway, to sooth her child, who seems to be troubled by night terrors all to often these past few weeks. In the old days a child like her would have been taken to the Jedi for testing, to see if there was a reason behind her frequent unhappiness, or so her grandmother is fond of telling them. Mother and child rock together, taking comfort in the other's presence, and the mother knows that even if the Jedi were around to find her daughter sensitive she would not give her up, even on nights like this when she simply will not stop crying, because this monster of a child is her most precious person. A tremor in the air causes both to still in sudden alarm, the ground shudders beneath the mother's feet and then—

This is how the world ends:  
It ends with a droid, performing simple maintenance on a shuttle that is normally used for fast intercontinental travel. The droid goes about its duties methodically, tightening a screw here, oiling a creaking hinge there. It runs a series of diagnostic checks on the stabilisers and decides that the right repulsorlift needs adjustment, as the pilot had recommended when the shuttle was checked in. Its owner, the shuttleport master, was talking quietly to one of his rebel friends, both of them worried about the delays reported by the crew of the Tantive IV, but the little droid paid them no mind. It wasn't programmed for eavesdropping after all, it was simply designed for keeping the shuttles working. A klaxon sounds as the shuttle trembles in its cradle, the droid drops a box of bolts on the floor, and then—

This is how the world ends:  
It ends with a doctor, treating a patient suffering from a life-threatening illness. Sadly there are some things bacta can't fix, so she gives the woman another injection and hopes that this time her immune system will be stimulated to save her. It's a horrible disease, non-infectious, thank the Force, but its mostly painless and not always fatal. They haven't found a cure yet, but they will, it's what doctors do. She checks her patient's vital signs again and murmurs reassuring words, wishing there was more she could do to help. It's days like this when she has momentary regrets for choosing to study medicine all those years ago. But then her patient's pulse stabilises, and her breathing evens, and the doctor thinks that maybe this time things will be okay. She turns to leave—there's a twi'lek in the next room with a broken arm that needs setting—when her patient here starts crashing. She races back to the bedside to try and save her, heedless of the tremors beneath her feet, and then—

This is how the world ends:  
It ends with the Prince Regent, reading his final reports for the day and authorising an increase in Imperial tithes without a moment's hesitation. He knows more than most the importance of keeping the Emperor happy, and on quiet days like this the knowledge weighs heavily on him. The Prince Regent, wary of hidden watchers even in his private study, applies his seal to the documents and glances out the window with a thought for his daughter, gone nearly a month now, and another for the other child, so long lost. The Prince Regent knows it will be a bad night; he can feel the melancholy setting in, and so as he leaves for the dining hall he leaves his datapad slightly askew on his desk—a subtle sign to a friend that perhaps they should meet this night to discuss what to do if no word arrives soon of his precious daughter, his wife's heir. There's a flash of light on the horizon near the setting sun, the Prince Regent turns with worry and then—

This is how the world ends:  
It ends with a bird, shaking the dew from its wings and hopping onto a higher branch to sing the sun into returning. It's the nesting season, and it cannot be away from its eggs for long, but some things are a biological imperative. It opens its beak and sings a song of morning, of life, of how fine it is to be a bird with a nest full of eggs and a mate to warm it at night. The first light crests the mountain, then the bird is joined by thousands of its kind all singing welcome to the day. All of the birds of the forest take wing joyously, circling their trees and the mountain and basking in the warmth of the sun. Something changes in the air and the bird turns, instinctively making its way back to its nest and mate with a sudden feeling of alarm. It rustles its wings hesitantly as it trying to shake off its fear, the forest falls expectantly and eerily silent, and then—

This is how the world ends:  
It ends with a boy, teasing one of his mates as they make their way to school together. The other had actually dared to say he _wanted_ to play the Jedi in their morning game of Jedi versus 'Troopers. Why would anyone do that? Everyone knows that the Jedi always lose, even if they do get the cooler weapon to start with. For a moment the boy toys with the idea of telling the stormtroopers at the school gates, just to see what happens, but he doesn't want to be a dobber, so he holds his tongue, well, after he pokes it out at his mate to prove the point. Then one of the other kids tips him and the quarrel is forgotten as the chase begins. The boy squeals as they race through the gate, certain of securing victory as he stretches out to tip one of the other kids and darts away again. The game slows to an uncertain halt as one of the kids is pointing to something, the boy turns to see a spot of green in the clear sky, and then—

This is how the world ends:  
It ends with a pilot, soaring joyously through the evening sky and wilfully ignoring his commander's demands for him to return to formation. He will in a moment, but after all these years his commander really ought to know that he never starts his patrols in strict military correctness. These days the reprimands are almost part of the routine, and it's not like discipline has been a high priority since they were downgraded to a ceremonial guard for the royals. The pilot rights the X-Wing and rejoins the patrol as they fly over Aldera, sparkling city by the lake. Sometimes he thinks about signing up for real, but he knows that he'd be trading his freedom for a job where he wouldn't even be guaranteed time in space and no amount of promised action would be worth that. A wave of heat rushes over the ship, the pilot tries to hold her steady as they pass through a shock front, and then—

This is how the world ends:  
It ends with a professor, preparing her notes for the following day's classes and trying to get her research proposal submitted both on time and to a high enough standard that she'll actually manage to get funded this time. A glance at the chrono tells her she's lost track of time again—her family will be asleep by the time she gets home tonight. Again. She's been feeling entirely too anxious this last week, as if events were building to a climax, or perhaps spiralling out of control. But there are still weeks to the end of semester, her funding application is well in hand, and even the professor's friends in the Palace seem to believe they're headed for a breakthrough. There's no clear reason for the professor to be this stressed, and yet at times it feels as if every nerve is screaming at her to run, that she has to move quickly if she is to outrun what is coming. A wave of premonition, of sudden terror, washes over the professor and she falls to her knees, reaching instinctively to press the '_emergency_' button on a secret comms device, and then—

This is how the world ends:  
It ends with a Princess and former Senator, boldly standing up for what she believes in, trying desperately to protect all she holds dear. She is still suffering from the drugs they gave her earlier, but that core of inner strength she carries with her somehow allows her to hide her fear and stand with the bearing of a Princess despite how wretched she feels. Something keeps her from speaking, or even from trying to formulate a plan; she keeps her thoughts buried deep within, to save her people from the Emperor's lapdog and the repulsive Governor currently holding his leash. She remembers her father's stories about what the sorcerer could do using the Force, and she fears him greatly.  
But nothing terrifies the Princess more than the sight of her beloved homeworld up on the screens before her, and all this talk of destroying planets is forcing the last of the drugs from her system, replaced with adrenaline that surges with every threat. In their preliminary scans of the stolen plans her colleagues had realised that the Death Star had more destructive capabilities than anything they'd ever seen, but they had been unable to comprehend what it might be used for. Even now the Princess wonders if this is all a bad dream, surely the Empire would never do such a thing.  
Control slips and she begs and pleads for her people, who have never known war, or threatened the Empire. She thinks of her father, and all the souls she knows in the Palace and beyond, and knows she could never betray them like this, not even for the Rebellion.  
"Dantooine," she breathes, head bowed. The Rebel Alliance would recover from the loss, and there is little else left on that world. A small selfish sacrifice for the greater good of millions.  
But Tarkin gives the order to proceed and her heart breaks into uncountable pieces. She loses all sense of restraint, begging, pleading, anything to prevent this from happening. She can feel Vader's amusement behind her, and it's all the Princess can do not to turn and tear that mask from his face. But she knows Tarkin is in control here; he must be her focus. She has to stop him, somehow.  
Gloved hands hold her back, sapping her strength to fight. She can only watch silently in growing terror as the great sphere of Alderaan is struck by a strange green plasma bolt (almost too bright to look at, but she must bear witness), and suddenly, unbelievably, as if it is a child's toy hanging by a string in space, Alderaan explodes, and everything the Princess has ever known, everything she ever thought was worth fighting for is gone, replaced by emptiness and a cloud of horrific debris. Her father, her friends, her people, all just gone as if they had never existed.  
She screams, tears falling down her face and throws herself at Tarkin in a futile attempt at extracting some small measure of revenge for her shattered heart. Black-gloved hands tighten on her shoulders, holding her up to witness all that has become of her world, her desire to rebel against tyranny, and she feels the sorcerer's power upon her, draining away her pain and will to go on. As the Princess faints her last thoughts are of her hatred of him and everything he works for. She closes her eyes, helpless against the sorcerer's magic, and then there is silence.


End file.
